The music in Pas Appât was recorded live to digital in 2009. We know Hubweber as a Zappa-loving trombone monger, a ventriloquist with stomach problems hybridized with a splendid virtuoso capable of innovative sorceries that leave the addressees dumbfounded. But if you thought that the coupling with double bassist Wolf would result in a typical chatter-with-irony-and-chaos, think again. The quieter soul of the man who operates the big wooden one manages to turn the lights down a tiny bit; this establishes a chain of variable moods and gentler-than-usual garrulousness that, even if not really definable as “reflective”, diminish the level of “amusement per se” while keeping the creative flame alive. Indeed the duo never resorts to bell-and-whistle whirlwinds, and – as correctly noted by Paul Lytton’s notes – even the audience is unexpectedly (and luckily) silent during the set. It almost seems that they are entertaining a private conversation, with all the traits of calmness and mild excitement characterizing a sincere exchange between two friends. Still, they warrant some space for us listeners to fantasize about alternative routes, and to perk the ears when things get tranquil (which happens pretty often). An instrumental wedlock of proven functionality, based as it is on abundant doses of timbral democracy and evident reciprocal esteem.